capriuni | palaver leading up to a random pet peeve

*

When I was a freshman in college, I took a 400-level course on fairytales.

We started, as the best approximation of the oral tradition, with a collection of Grimms' tales, "newly translated" by Ralph Manheim, who made a big deal in his introduction how he strived to faithfully recreate the rhythms of oral tellings, as recorded by the brothers as they gathered their stories for the collection.

There was one story that I particularly liked, called "The Mongoose," about a prince who lets himself be transformed into that shape and sold by a street vendor as a pet to the "cruel princess" he wants to marry, and in the climax scene hides from her by climbing up on her shoulders, and hiding behind her braids.

Well, over the years, I've come across other translations of this story, and in every other version, the animal he gets transformed into is called "A sea-hare." Apparently, Mr. Manheim just decided that a mongoose would be a better animal.

So I look up "Sea-hare" in the dictionary, and learn that it's a species of marine slug. So, yeah. Clearly not an animal to buy from a street vendor, and keep in a little gilded cage. But "Mongoose" isn't much better for a cuddly pet. Mongooses are so vicious, and willing to bite, that they're even banned from American zoos.

So, a few years ago, I asked on Mudcat if anyone had ideas to what sort of animal a "Sea-hare" could be. And one native speaker of German, pointed out that in Germany, the pre-fix "sea-" is often tagged onto animals that are imported from across the ocean, so he figured that "Sea-hare" might, in the 19th century, have referred to what is now called a "sea-pig" in German, today (^Points to picture, above^). I think, after looking at this picture that I found yesterday, that that's very likely, considering how rabbit-like his cute little mouth is, and his wee, slightly floppy ears (awww...). So, even though I have retold this story as "The Mongoose" in the past, I now think of it as "The Guinea-Pig" (and I can totally imagine a hard-hearted princess getting all squishy and coo-ey over a guinea-pig).

Now, here's my pet peeve: I have absolutely no problem with putting your own spin and biases into the retelling of folktales. Heck, even Jacob and Wilheim rewrote and polished, and edited and redacted the stories for the sake of making political points and persuading their audience to support their political views.** And I feel no guilt over redacting the stories when I retell them. My problem is when you make gradeous claims that your version of the story is more valid and "Authentic" than any other story.

I must say, I always feel a bit disappointed when an "authority" figure whom I have admired, turns out to have made up a "true" inspirational story that they use to make their points (or if they accept a story as true with without bothering to research it). It's then that the person loses all my respect.

John Dyer is one such person, and every year, my PBS station runs at least one John Dyer fundraising special. In nearly every one, he retells the story of a poor boy who is redeemed by a single caring teacher. He was sent this story in an email, as true.

It isn't true. And what's more, it's a piece of copywrited fiction by Elizabeth Ballard. What galls me is that John Dyer (and my pbs station) are getting money for this, and Ms. Ballard is not, and all through this process, the story is told and retold to extoll the rest of us to live honest lives with integrity. And all it would take is a simple search of Snopes.com to find the truth. A made-up story can still be meaningful, and teach important lessons. And there's no shame in admitting that they're made up. Jesus himself told them all the time. They're called "parables."

*I figure a small, serious, rodent whose ancestors came into European culture in the 17th c., would make a point not to speak like a cat.

**(making Germany's government more like a republic, and less feudal -- and no, they did not travel the country gathering stories from the peasants; they invited the wives of their wealthy neighbors into their home to tell them the stories they knew)